


Like a Cork Upon the Tide

by abcooper



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: CW brief mention of sexual assault, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-08-23
Packaged: 2018-08-09 05:46:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7789018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abcooper/pseuds/abcooper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the Sin Bin Bad Trope Battle - genie AU! Cat Grant has three wishes. Kara has an interesting interpretation of how that goes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> brief mention of sexual assault ahead
> 
> Sorry this is part 1 of 2. I tried to finish on time, and as you can see, I did not.

Cat Grant is 34 years old, and she is drunk. Drunk enough that it was a mistake to drive here. Drunk enough that she stumbles a little as she walks, and she is grateful that there is no one there to see it. The beach is empty at night in the middle of winter - National City is north enough, and the wind is strong enough, that it's not really pleasant weather for a beach walk. It is also, she must admit, three o’clock in the morning on a Thursday, so maybe that's part of it too.

She is drunk because today CatCo made its first acquisition, purchasing the National City Tribune, and established itself officially as a multimedia company. She bought the bottle of expensive champagne almost a month in advance, to prove to herself how confident she was that she would have something to celebrate, and the bluff paid off. She has something to celebrate.

120 miles away, today is also the 10th birthday of a little boy named Adam Foster. But that has nothing to do with Cat Grant, so the alcohol is a celebration of her success. CatCo deserves a bottle of champagne in its honor - and then a couple fingers of bourbon as a follow up.

She taps a seashell lightly with her foot, watching it flip over on top of her big toe. A moment later, a wave of water reaches up just far enough to knock it off her again, skimming her feet in a brief greeting. the water is warmer than the air, until it retreats and leaves her skin cold again. She'd left her shoes and stockings up by the car, content to shiver in bare feet and a Versace dress.

With no witnesses but the roaring waves, she admits that this isn’t celebration she is feeling.

Tomorrow it will be celebration. She has real things to be proud of. But tonight, tired and alone, she kicks at seashells and lets it be grief.

The moonlight is beautiful glinting off the black ocean, otherworldly - waves are large and ominous in the stiff breeze, only to crash down into nothingness before lapping meekly at her feet. She smiles a little watching it, though there are tears running slow tracks down her face, and then she notices something metallic glittering in the sand in front of her.

Cat stoops to pick it up out of idle curiosity - even in the dark she recognizes the sheen of expensive platinum,and she is expecting to come up with someone’s lost earring, but it's bigger than she thought, and she has to dig a little to get it out of the sand. She lets a wave wash over it to clean it off, and when she stands she is holding a rounded, heavy metal disk the size of her palm. There are markings etched along the top, intricate and looping - they look almost alien. Or like writing, maybe? It is hard to make out.

Cat rubs her thumb along it, hoping to find some familiarity in the feel of those marks. The metal warms against her skin - and then begins to glow. It shifts rapidly from warm to hot, bright enough to almost blind her as she flings it away from her with a scream, falling backward in her haste.

She has found some misplaced weapon, an advanced version of a landmine, and this is how she dies -

Nothing happens. 

When she dares to open her eyes, the light is gone. A girl is standing on the beach in front of her.

At first Cat can't make out the details of her - it's too dark to even guess her age. She can only make out long pale hair, and a tall slender form covered in a white flowing dress.

Then she comes closer, offering Cat a hand up out of the sand, and Cat finds herself looking into the most gorgeous blue eyes she has ever seen.

She takes the hand. “There's sand on my dress.” she realizes, displeased, and then concedes to herself immediately that it's an odd first thing to say under the circumstances. Or maybe not - blue eyed girls come and go, and are rarely as expensive as Versace.

“I'm sorry,” the girl says. She is very young, Cat can see now - 25 at the oldest, probably not even that. “I didn't mean to frighten you.”

“That was you, with the light?” Cat demands, ready to go on the offensive now that she is back on her feet. “Just what were you  _ doing?” _

She wants to hear ‘my flashlight overloaded,’ or something equally mundane, but she already knows that she won't. The light came from the disk, and the girl hadn't been on the beach a moment ago. Cat had not become a famous journalist by reaching for easy answers, and she's drunk enough for reality to seem like a hazy concept anyways.

So she's not shocked when the girl says, “you let me out of my pod, it lights up a bit when it opens. You must have brushed your fingers over the release.”

“Your pod.” Cat repeats. “You’re, what, an alien refugee escaping on the last ship away from a dying world?”

The girl laughs, a snorting graceless kind of sound that expresses awkwardness  more than amusement. “No, not quite. I guess alien isn't technically wrong, but I've been on earth for a long long time. The last time anyone let me out, humans were calling us genies.” She offers Cat a bright smile. “My name is Kara Zor El.”

“You expect me to believe that you’re a genie.” Cat says flatly. If she believed in genies - which she unequivocally  _ doesn't  _ \- she might have expected them to be mystical and larger-than-life. Kara, who is now poking her toes into the sand with wide-eyed delight, can at best be described as ‘adorable.’

The most likely explanation, Cat realizes with sudden relief, lies in the bottle of champagne and two fingers of bourbon. This is a dream. She has fallen asleep at the beach, or perhaps even on her couch and the drive over here was one more figment of imagination.

“Well then, do I get 3 wishes for releasing you, oh genie?” she asks, and suddenly Kara’s eyes blaze with light.

“That is the contract, yes.” she answers. “I am tethered to my pod by ancient laws forged into binding chain. For releasing me, I must grant you 3 requests. When the last one is made, I will be sealed back in, and you will not see me again.”

Three wishes. It's just an alcohol-induced dream, Cat knows, but she tastes bitterness at the back of her throat all the same. All too well does she know the folly of endless wishing.

“Alright, then - three wishes,” she agrees. “I have my first one all ready to go.” And she is thinking of Adam, turning 10 years old today, as she spits out, “I wish I wasn't so goddamn selfish and alone.”

She expects another flash of light - some kind of magical fireworks. Or she expects to wake up and have a headache. Instead Kara Zor El steps closer, placing a hand on the back of Cat’s neck and looking deeply into her eyes.

She looks very real.

Cat looks back, with bated breath, as those blue eyes search hers, and then Kara steps back and nods once. “Alright. I’ll grant it.” she says, and then she vanishes.

**

When Cat wakes up the next morning, she is sitting in her car in the parking lot by the beach. Her head is pounding, and her memory of the night is hazy - she spares a moment to be thankful that she'd had the sense not to drive home.

She can't remember walking back to her car at all, but she remembers her dream about the genie with surprising clarity. the bitter loneliness it invoked still lingers, but she doesn't have time for that now. She drives home, showers, and gets ready for work. CatCo has made its first major acquisition, and now it's her job to make sure that the results are a success.

The tribune’s marketing director is passionate about creating a website for the newspaper. It's a good idea. Between entering the online market, shifting personnel, and justifying every decision to the sharp eyes of a predatory board, Cat barely has time to enjoy the new perks of having an assistant bring her lunch.

She is so busy that it takes seven weeks before she stops and counts back and realizes that her period has gone well beyond just ‘late.’

When her assistant - she thinks his name is Richard, but she legitimately has not had a moment to bother learning it since his hurried interview - brings her in a sandwich and coffee from the deli across the street, she adds one extra thing to her list of demands. “Schedule me an appointment with my gynecologist, don't shift meetings to make room for it but fit it into this week, I don't want to wait.”

Richard’s face screws up into an expression of scandalized distaste at this evidence that his boss’ genitalia is somehow misbehaving, but he dutifully copies the instruction into his notebook. Cat abruptly can't stand the stupid little book,and can't stand his stupid little face. She resolves to find a reason to fire him within the week. “And this coffee is as lukewarm as the references on your resume!” she shouts after him as he retreats to his own desk.

He schedules the appointment for Thursday morning, and Cat can't quite shake her fear as she puts on the undignified medical gown and sticks her feet into the stirrups.

She doesn't have time right now to be sick.

Dr. Green is competent and not prone to small talk, which is why Cat likes her. She does a thorough examination and takes a urine sample. When she re-enters the room she is smiling gently.

“Well?” Cat demands, glaring at her.

“I’m happy to say that you're in perfect health, Ms. Grant,” she says reassuringly. “You are, however, pregnant.”

For a moment, Cat is genuinely stunned into speechlessness.

“There are some tests I'd like to run if you have the time this morning. I know this is old hat for you, but we should discuss your options and next steps.” Dr. Green continues, before Cat finally finds her voice.

“I can't be pregnant,” she croaks, “that's completely impossible. I haven’t -” she cuts herself off, unwilling to admit even to her doctor how long it has been since she had sex. It's not that there aren't a multitude of eager volunteers, of course - it's just that she’s been busy, and somehow lately the niggling loneliness is better silenced by alcohol than by temporary company.

Dr. Green is now looking at her with concern. “Ms. Grant, if something has happened, you can rely on my doctor-patient confidentiality…” 

Abruptly, Cat remembers the night on the beach seven weeks ago, when she’d been so drunk that she couldn't remember getting back to her car.

There isa very real possibility, she thinks distantly, that she has been raped. She should tell Dr. Green. She should be calling the police and then a very discreet abortion clinic.

Another memory overshadows the thought, though - of clear blue eyes shining in the darkness, promising her she won’t be alone anymore.

It makes no sense. She's not crazy - she knows that magic isn't real, and she knows, intellectually, what must have happened to her, if she is pregnant now.

She knows what must be real, but she also knows, in her heart, what the truth is. Just this once, Cat decides, she is going to operate on faith.

**

Months pass busier than ever, and rumors abound. The board, already skeptical of their outspoken female CEO, seems appalled that she would rub her femininity in their face by being so aggressively pregnant at them.

Cat had expected herself to struggle with her decision to keep the baby. She'd expected to be angry and frightened by the question of paternity, and to spend long sessions going over it with her therapist.

She doesn’t. There is a sense of rightness to this pregnancy that she can't shake. It doesn't waver when she turns her guest room into a nursery, or when she negotiates for three weeks of maternity leave and the right to bring her child to the office with her for another month after that, or when she fires Richard for failing to bring her enough folic acid in her lunch.

For the first time in a long time, Cat feels a tentative sense of well-being that is nothing like the edgy breathless triumph of seeing her professional ambitions realized.

She wouldn't trade CatCo for anything, of course. But she finds herself running a gentle hand along her stomach in soothing strokes as she works, and in a moment of boldness, Richard’s replacement tells her that pregnancy is a good look on her.

From the moment he was born, everyone had said how much Adam looked like his father - Cat had been absent from his face, and then absent from his life.

It's going to be different this time. It takes 16 hours of labor, and Cat doesn't let them skimp on the good drugs, but when they place her son in her arms, she can already see that he is going to have her chin.

He is an angry red color, his eyes screwed up as he declares his outrage at being born. Something deep inside Cat solidifies as she holds him in her arms and smiles. This time, she is going to do this right.

It's not until the next day, after she has coaxed him into nursing for the first time, that she really gets a good look at his eyes. They are a clear blue that she recognizes right away out of a dream. She stares, stunned, as they look up at her out of a face that is otherwise entirely made from her own features.

She names him Carter.

The hospital releases her after 24 hours, and she takes Carter home. He’s figured out breast feeding with a vengeance, and he doesn't want to do anything yet but eat and sleep. Cat knows that she has a couple weeks of this before he starts to do anything else - this part, she has done before. She settles him in the portable crib set up in her room.

It's only after Carter is completely settled that Cat notices the metal disc sitting on top of her bureau. 

She inhales sharply, but some part of her isn't entirely surprised. She still has two more wishes, after all.

She gets the intercom set up, and takes that and the disc into the living room. She sets the disc down on her coffee table and rubs it gingerly, remembering the searing heat last time she'd done so. Just like before, it begins to glow.

When the light clears, Kara is standing before her, and there is a scorch-mark on her table.

“You impregnated me?” Cat can hear the ice in her own voice, and Kara clearly can too, since she shrinks away.

“I granted your wish.” she answers, sounding a little defiant. “And it wasn't an easy one, by the way, so you’re welcome.”

Now that she says it, Cat can see that Kara is pale in an unhealthy looking way. There are bags under her eyes, and her hair is stringy and unwashed. 

“Are you alright?” she asks, though it doesn't change how angry she is. A vague drunken wish is hardly any kind of consent.

Kara waves off the concern. “I’ll be fine. Creating life, it's a little more of a job than, you know, a pile of gold. I just need a nap.” She is almost swaying on her feet. “It worked though, right? Can I - can I see him?”

Cat doesn't know this person, and she's obviously powerful and obviously sick, which are two good reasons not to let her near an infant. But the naked hope and longing on Kara’s face go a long way toward settling Cat’s misgivings. That's not the face of someone who means her son any harm.

“For a moment,” she allows, and leads Kara over to the crib. Kara stares at him, emotions chasing each other across her face faster than Cat can read them.

“He’s beautiful, Ms. Grant. Looks just like you,” she says finally. “I have to go now - I need to recover. But you have two wishes left - all you have to do is summon me.”

And with that, she is gone.

Cat watches Carter for a long time, thoughtful. He’s still all red and wrinkly, more like a dried tomato than a baby. All her anger is faded by the sight of his sleeping face. She cannot regret anything that led to him.

Eventually she has to move. She gets a spare blanket out and brings it into the living room. Gingerly, she wraps the disc up in the blanket, careful not to rub the markings on the top. She finds an old white cardboard box and puts the blanket inside, taping it shut, and hides the box behind a collection of umbrellas in the top of her closet.

She can't regret Carter, but she also can't expect to get that lucky more than once. Fate and magic and mystery - Cat knows better than to depend on those. She wants her destiny to be something self-determined. Whatever Kara is, Cat hopes that she won't see her again.

**

“Ms. Grant, Dirk Armstrong is on the phone again. I told him you were in a meeting, but this is the 7th time he’s called today, and he says to remind you that you’re legally obliged to keep him informed…” Cat looks up from her laptop into her latest assistant’s anxious face. Deepti has bags under her eyes. She's a competent assistant and Cat has no plans to fire her, but she gives it a week before the high-strung girl quits.  Deepti treats every phone call and lunch order like a major crisis, which doesn't work well in an environment where there are  _ actual  _ crises to deal with. Cat is sure that there is a nice desk job somewhere rural and slow-paced where she will have time to try some deep-breathing exercises and maybe pick up yoga.

“Tell him that he receives a newsletter once a month, and I am not legally obliged to waste my time holding his hand and singing soothing lullabies. My board should not require more mothering from me than my 10 year old son.”

She regrets the crack as soon as she makes it, but Deepti just nods and goes back to her phone. Carter is in the state finals chess tournament this afternoon - his nanny has driven him an hour upstate to attend. He’d asked Cat to attend - quietly, without looking at her - and when she’d told him she couldn't make it, he’d just nodded and moved on.

Carter never gets mad at her. She thinks it would be easier if he did. Cat has always tried to be honest with him, even when it’s hard, so he understands that CatCo is overhauling to meet a changing market in an increasingly digital world, and that Dirk Armstrong is looking for any foothold in the chaos that he can use to oust her from the company. He understands that right now her job is more important than his chess tournament.

She didn't want him to understand that. She promised herself when he was born that she would get it right this time around, but she hasn't. The secret thought she drowns with alcohol these days is that wishing for Carter is the most selfish thing she has ever done to anyone.

Even that can't make her regret it. 

Around 7:00 she finishes going through the budget analysis for the new project, cautiously pleased. Armstrong has called twice more, and she can let him through now that she’s certain he won't like the answers to her question.

She calls the house first. She wants to hear how Carter’s tournament went before he goes to bed, and if the rest of the board ends up conferenced in to Armstrong’s interrogation, it could take hours. No one picks up. She frowns and leaves a message.

“Hello sweetheart, I hope your tournament went well. I may be in a phone meeting for the next few hours, but call when you can and i’ll do my best to pick up. All my love!” She winces at how false and upbeat her own voice sounds, but it is the best she can do - she is genuinely disappointed that he didn't pick up. She wonders if maybe he is mad at her after all, but then she notices a missed text notification. It is from his nanny - Carter came in 4th place, they are going out for Indian food to celebrate and will get home a little later than expected.

He can't pick up the phone because he is out celebrating one more thing that his mother has missed. Cat pours herself a large splash of bourbon and calls the board. 

By the time she gets home, it is after 10:00 and Carter is asleep. Cat has to leave by 6 the next morning, she has a 7:00 meeting with overseas investors, so it is likely that she won’t see him or talk to him until the evening. Congratulating him after the victory has had 24 hours to dull is another strike against her as a mother, but at least the board has been well silenced for the time being. She sends the nanny home, and debates for a moment before opening a bottle of wine.

She pours a generous glass and takes it into the bedroom with her. She will take an hour tonight to indulge her maudlin mood, and tomorrow she will arrange for some kind of surprise delivery to be waiting for Carter when he comes home from school. Spending moneyis no substitute for spending time, that's parenting 101, but sometimes it can soften a blow.

Carter hates having his picture taken. There are almost no photos of him in the house, because Cat believes in respecting children’s boundaries. Once a year they take a Christmas photo together, and Cat keeps those in a shoebox in her closet with a pile of baby photos from before Carter had been old enough to object, and a few precious photos of another little boy, who in under a month will be turning 21 without her.

She has to stand on a step stool to get to the box and even then it’s a little precarious. Cat Grant is the most powerful woman in national city, but even that can't make her any taller.

As she pulls down the shoebox, she catches the corner against something - another box comes crashing to the ground.

It's just a plain white box, and when it falls open on its side a wool blanket spills out. It takes Cat a moment to place it, and then suddenly her mind reaches back 10 years and she remembers it perfectly.

Kara.

She sets the shoebox aside and reaches out with shaking hands, unwrapping the blanket slowly. The platinum disk falls to the floor with a heavy thud. Cat feels like she is in a trance as she picks it up. A decade ago, she'd been brave enough to decide she didn't need magic. Day by day, missed chess tournaments and dinners have worn away at her bravery. She is just so damn tired.

  
Cat runs a trembling thumb across the alien symbols, and they begin to glow.


	2. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only a week late, here's the remainder of this challenge fic, haha.... ha
> 
> It has been kindly pointed out to me that this fic needs some slightly spoilery content warnings, so they're at the bottom - HEAD TO BOTTOM OF CHAPTER FOR CONTENT WARNING PLS

When the light clears, Kara is standing in front of her, looking sleepy and pleased. Cat’s walk-in closet is large but not _that_ large - by necessity, they are very close together.

Close enough for Cat to see that Kara looks exactly the same as she did 10 years ago. She looks healthier, well rested and clean, but Cat is certain that she hasn't aged a day the entire time. That, more than anything else Kara has ever done, strikes her for the first time as real magic. She wonders just how long Kara has been alive.

The ancient and mystical being in question smiles sleepily at her and gives a little shake, like a wet golden retriever. She has clearly just woken up.

“Hi Ms. Grant! How’s Carter?” she asks, and then frowns, crinkling her brow in confusion. “You look older. How - how long have I been napping?”

Cat takes a moment to parse that. “Have you been asleep since the last time I saw you?” she asks.

“Making humans is a lot of work,” Kara says a little defensively. “It's not like I’ve got a long to-do list to get through when I'm not fulfilling your wishes."

“It's been _ten years.”_ Cat tells her, a little irked. She’d played a fairly significant role in creating Carter herself, after all. It makes her uncomfortable to think too hard about Kara’s part in the process - especially since Cat’s son undeniably has Kara’s eyes.

Kara gives a sigh of relief. “Ten years, that’s not so bad.” she gives Cat a little sideways glance. “You age so quickly, it can be confusing.”

“Excuse me?” Cat pitches her voice at below zero temperatures, and Kara turns red, squirming a little in the confines of Cat’s closet, where there is no escape.

“Sorry, that was rude,” she stutters. “I didn't mean it like that - you look amazing, you’re even more beautiful than you were on the beach, I just meant - humans in general, not -”

“Alright, give up before you explode.” Cat says, mollified. “And good morning, I suppose. Would you like some coffee?” She eyes Kara doubtfully. “Do you eat?”

“I don't have to, but I like to.” Kara assures her, practically bouncing on her feet. “What’s coffee?”

“Nothing you seem like you need.” Cat mutters under her breath, and leads the way.

They end up sitting at the kitchen table while Kara tries not to actually _chug_ a cup of hot chocolate.

“So… ten years,” she says hesitantly, toying with her mug. “That’s like an eighth of your lifespan, right? You haven’t had any wishes this whole time?”

“An eighth of _my_ lifespan, yes. Just how long do you live for?” Cat asks instead of answering. It’s not just a deflection - she wants to know.

Something flashes across Kara’s face - Cat doesn’t know her very well, but she thinks it might have been unhappiness. But it’s gone before she can say why, and Kara is smiling as brightly as ever, with chocolate on her upper lip. “Oh, uh, it kind of depends,” she admits. “I mean - technically my lifespan is about the same as a human’s, maybe a tiny bit longer. But I’m not really living while I’m in my pod, things are kind of paused.”

“You’re just in stasis until I call you out?”

“Well, no… not stasis,” Kara answers slowly, “my mind is still active. But I’m not using my body, so it’s not aging.”

“That sounds horrible,” Cat says after a beat.

“Oh, no, it’s probably not what you’re picturing,” Kara says hastily. “I have access to … well, I think you guys are getting close to it with the internet. I can do a lot without a body, and when you take away biology, time doesn’t really feel the same.”

It still sounds like a living nightmare to Cat, but she lets the topic go for now.

“So… two more wishes,” she says instead. “What are the restrictions on this, exactly? I assume I can’t wish for godhood, or wish for more wishes.”

Kara’s lips quirk. “Godhood is out of my power,” she admits. “I think you’re creating it for yourself without my help though - Queen of all Media, that’s about halfway to being a religion, don’t you think?”

Cat laughs, startling herself - she doesn’t really laugh often. “That’s true - that’s part of why I haven’t called on you before. I wanted to do it myself,” she says, and the way Kara looks at her in response is deeply admiring. It strokes Cat’s ego a little.

“You could try wishing for more wishes, I’m not sure whether it would work or not,” she continues. “Some things just aren’t my decision, and that’s how it has to be - it’s not a good idea to have power without limitations.” There’s some shadow over Kara’s face, and Cat is more certain than ever that Kara’s life must be a story for the ages, but as always, it doesn’t take long for her sunny optimism to resurface. “Within those limitations, a lot is left up to my discretion. Why don’t you start by telling me what you want, and we’ll figure out from there what I can do about it.”

“Tell you what I want…” Cat muses. “I already pay someone to listen to what I want - she usually responds with a Lexapro prescription. You better not bill me for a therapy hour.”

Kara must hear what she isn’t saying, because her face goes solemn and earnest. “You can trust my discretion, Ms Grant.” she says, and despite herself, Cat does.

Kara is a good listener - she is so genuine, and the heartbreak on her face when Cat tells her about the chess tournament is everything Cat didn’t know she wanted. It has been a long time since she has had a confidant - not a paid therapist, but someone who is simply listening because they are on her side. She finds herself saying more than she means to, spurred on by large blue eyes.

“That’s so much… I don’t know how you balance it all.” Kara murmurs when the flow of words wraps up, and even though she thinks the same thing, Cat bristles a little.

“I do it by getting up and doing what needs to be done,” she responds, a little sharply. “I’m not saying it’s too much to handle - I just wish I had some competent help once in awhile. Someone who can actually understand what I need from them!” Too late, she hears her own words and winces. “That wasn’t an _actual_ wish,” she clarifies, “just a turn of phrase.”

“It could be your wish, though.” Kara says, an odd lilt in her voice. Cat eyes her suspiciously.

“The last time I made a vague wish, you got me pregnant,” she points out. “I was thinking this one should be a little more specific. I might have my lawyer draft it up for me to make sure there are no loopholes.”

Kara’s lips quirk. “Would you have to explain that, or would you just tell them what you want and they’d never dare question you?” she wonders aloud, and then turns more serious. “You complain because you don’t like to give up control, but I can see your heart, Ms Grant. Carter was the answer to your first wish.”

“And what do you see, when you look into my heart now?” Cat murmurs, intrigued by this new brazenness. She thinks maybe Kara is telling the truth - she has never forgotten the searing way Kara had looked into her eyes that night on the beach.

She won’t forget the way Kara is looking at her now; those familiar blue eyes are charged with a heat that she can’t quite identify. It almost looks like lust, but Kara isn’t looking at her body with desire - she is looking at something else entirely. At Cat’s heart, if her poetic turn of phrase can be believed.

“I see you, all of you. I see how amazing you are, like no one else I’ve met in a thousand years,” Kara murmurs. For a moment they can’t look away from each other - Cat is mesmerized by this mysterious woman across from her, and she thinks Kara is caught up in the same spell.

“Do you know,” Cat finally murmurs, “that you have hot chocolate on your mouth?”

Kara laughs and reaches for a napkin, and the intensity of the moment is broken. Cat is relieved. Whatever was charging the air between them, she doesn’t think she is ready for it.

“It’s getting late,” Kara says. “You’re thinking too hard. You’ve made a wish - I think you should go to bed, and trust me to fulfill it.”

Cat does.

**

The next day, Cat arranges for a new video game to be waiting for Carter when he gets home from school. She goes to work with bated breath - at every turn, she is waiting for something to change, for some evidence of magic in the mundane tasks of her daily life.

Nothing happens.

The day after that, Deepti quits. She hands Cat a resignation letter with trembling hands. “I’m so sorry,” she says at least three times, and Cat _hates_ apologies, but she is kind enough to just wave them off, instead of tearing into them.

“The job wasn’t a good fit,” she says firmly. “Arrange with HR for me to find a replacement, and stay until I’ve found one, and I suppose I’ll find the time to write you a recommendation letter.”

Deepti practically bubbles over with gratitude, which is annoying. It is admittedly more than Cat had done for her last two assistants, but they had been incompetent and Cat had fired them. Having high expectations is _not_ cruelty, and she knows perfectly well that if she were a man, she would face none of the whispered accusations that have made Deepti so nervous. But she grits her teeth against this latest small indignity of life, and makes room in her schedule to interview the final set of candidates that HR sends her way.

Nothing magical invades the daily grind until the following Wednesday, when Deepti pokes her head into Cat’s office.

“Ms. Grant, your 10:15 is here,” she says, and Cat sighs deeply, because so far the interviews have been both disappointing and boring.

“Send her in,” she says a little resentfully. Deepti disappears and a few minutes later she hears footsteps enter her office. She holds up a single finger in the universal gesture for ‘wait,’ refusing to look up from her computer until she has finished the scathing email she is currently drafting to the art department. It’s partly a power move, but mostly a genuine refusal to lose track of the really excellently nasty turn of phrase she’d thought up.

When she finally looks up, Kara is standing in front of her smiling affectionately. “Good morning, Ms. Grant,” she starts, and holds out a hand. “My name is Kara Danvers.”

“ _You’re_ my 10:15?” Cat asks skeptically. She’d wished for competent help, and she supposes that having Great Powers Lost to Time is one definition of competent, but she’d mostly meant somebody who knew how to use her filing system.

Kara just nods, and Cat decides to roll with it. “Alright then, my 10:15 - what makes you special?”

“Special? Nothing - I’m not special at all. I’m completely, totally, 100% normal,” Kara assures her, just a hint of mirth in her eyes. More seriously, she adds, “but I’m a fast learner, I really do care, and I just want to help.”

Cat hires her, of course. There must be a less hands-on way for Kara to fulfill her wish, but she adds up the details Kara has let slip, and sees the beginnings of a full picture forming. If Kara simply fills a wish with a wave of her hand, then her part is done, and back into her pod she goes. Kara has chosen to do this instead.

Wish or no wish, if Kara can’t do the job, Cat will have to fire her. There is simply too much at stake right now for her to have an incompetent assistant. She is shocked to realize that she hopes that won't be the case.

Kara settles into her desk easily enough, making fast friends with some little IT hobbit who keeps making eyes at her. Cat keeps an eye on her, but she doesn’t seem to be struggling more than any other bright-eyed millennial with a new job.

Around one in the afternoon, Cat is still conferenced into a call between her marketing director and an overseas sales division when her stomach starts to rumble. She scowls, because it’s going to be at least 45 more minutes before she gets off this extremely unproductive call, and opens a text box on her computer to silently demand that Kara bring her lunch. Before she can start typing, she sees Kara silently enter the room with a take-out box. She is wearing a plaid skirt in such loud colors that it kind of hurts Cat’s eyes, but she sets the box down on the desk with a fork and an encouraging smile and slips out again. When Cat opens it, she sees quinoa and shrimp and avocado and ginger, and it is somehow _exactly_ what she wanted right in the moment.

At 4:00, Kara comes in with a set of drafts that Cat needs to look over. Cat had been hoping to get them by 2:00, but for once it’s not anyone’s _fault_ that things are delayed, and she resigns herself to another late night in the office.

When she flips them open, though, they’re already marked and covered in post-it notes. She feels her forehead crease under the force of her frown.

“Kara!” she calls, and the girl comes scurrying into her office a moment later - maybe just a little bit faster than a normal human could have gotten there from her desk.

The sun is down just enough to be coming in straight through her window, and it glances of Kara’s hair in a way that makes her look angelic. She has spent the entire day playing human, but in the end, that's just play-acting. Whatever Kara is, she's not human.

Cat shoves her awe back down without pausing for ceremony. “What did you do to my drafts?” she demands.

“Just made a few notes for you - I thought if my grammar notes met with your approval, I could do that kind of preliminary editing before they got to you,” Kara explains.

Technically, the copy editors should have done that kind of preliminary editing about three drafts before anything hit Cat’s desk. Cat considers Kara for a long moment. She is almost vibrating with the need to please, and with magical powers to back her up she probably can, but this is CatCo, and it's time to set some boundaries.

“Minor edits are not your job, Kiera,” Cat enunciates coldly. Kara wilts a little at the tone and the name, but Cat continues, “they are my copy editors’ job. And if they aren't doing their jobs, it is _my_ job to fire them. _Your_ job is to do what I tell you, so that _I_ have the time to fire copy editors and still get home before my son goes to bed at 9 o’clock.”

Kara looks like she wants to argue for a moment, and Cat hopes she won't. CatCo is _hers_ , and if Kara can't understand that, then she doesn't understand Cat half as well as she claimed to.

“Of course, Ms. Grant - I’m sorry for overstepping. I just wanted to help,” she says instead, and if her tone is a little plaintive instead of apologetic, Cat can ignore that. She just nods once and waves Kara away, focusing on the drafts.

Kara’s editing notes are perfect, and they save her at least an hour.

**

The thing is, Kara never really pushes hard enough that Cat has to do anything about it, but she never _stops_ pushing either. Cat’s lunch shows up just as she’s thinking to ask for it, Advil shows up on her desk with a bottle of sparkling water the moment she rubs at her forehead.

One day after an especially frustrating phone call, she reaches for her ice bucket to make a drink and finds that instead of filling it with ice, Kara has filled it with m&ms - a secret favorite that Cat has told no one about. It should make her angry, because if there's one thing Cat hates it's being manipulated, and that's what Kara is doing, however well-meant it may be. But they're exactly what she wanted, and she can't help the way her mood lifts, just a little.

The editing notes never reappear, but somehow, mysteriously, CatCo’s copy-editing team seems to have improved without her needing to fire anyone.

The layouts are almost always on time now, too. Once Cat hears a photographer tell a new set director, “if you need anything, go to Kara Danvers, not the boss - she’ll sort it out for you with less yelling, and she usually has cookies in her desk.”

Kara eats constantly. Usually she's eating something sweet, and usually it's with an expression of such euphoria that it's a little uncomfortable to witness. Cat once saw her bite into a cupcake and moan with such sensual pleasure that her little hobbit friend tripped over a desk chair.

She'd half wanted to fire him for the blatant ogling, but she has to admit that it would be a little hypocritical. Kara  _had_ been making kind of a spectacle - anyone would look.

Thanksgiving rolls around, and even though she doesn't say so, Cat knows Kara is working double-time to ensure that Cat will be able to go home Wednesday evening and not touch anything work-related until at least Sunday.

It looks as though she is going to pull it off, and when Kara comes into her office Wednesday afternoon with the finalized layouts for next week’s magazine, Cat is feeling grateful enough to drop her a bone.

“Any plans for the holiday, Kiera?” she asks, idly flipping through. She can expect them to be exactly to her specifications from the previous draft - Kara wouldn't have allowed them on her desk otherwise.

“Oh, nothing big, I'm going with my roommate to her mom’s house,” Kara says, and there is excitement and warmth vibrating through her voice, completely ruining her attempt to sound casual.

“You have a roommate?” Cat is mildly surprised. She'd never thought about it, but of course Kara is using her (low) salary to get an apartment somewhere. She's not human, but she must still need a home while she has a body.

“Her name is Alex,” Kara supplies. “She kind of adopted me when she realized I didn't have any family, and then her mom did too. They've been so great.”

Cat is surprised to feel herself bristling a little at the warmth and awe in Kara’s face. She recognizes it as Kara’s ‘aren't humans neat, I love them’ face, and she's never seen it directed at anybody besides herself.

She waves the jealousy away with a little effort. Kara isn't hers to own.

“ _Do_ you have a family somewhere? A little set of matching pods all lined up?” she asks idly, and then regrets it as all warmth is washed off Kara’s face in instant.

“Not anymore.” Kara says shortly, and turns to go.

“Kara, wait,” Cat stops her, and she turns back. “I didn't mean to be cruel. I wasn't thinking.”

“That's alright.” Kara smiles at her, always ready to forgive, but the shadow doesn't leave her face. “It was a long time ago.”

“What happened?” Cat asks, because she thinks maybe Kara needs to say. And because, if she’s being honest, she is curious.

“They died,” Kara answers a little distantly. “All of them. I was just a little girl. My mother sent me away so I could live, and I -” all of a sudden her face is practically twisting itself in half, but she keeps forcing the words out, “I know she meant it for the best, but she sent me away alone.”

Cat doesn't say a word. But she can see what's coming in the twist of Kara’s face; she takes Kara by the arm and leads her out onto the balcony for a moment of privacy, shutting the door firmly behind them.

“She left me all alone for 10,000 years,” Kara says, and something breaks.

Cat holds onto her, just clutches at her roughly as sobs rack her body and Kara lets herself acknowledge millennia of grief aloud at last. Cat has rules about crying at work, and this isn't what she meant to do on a random Wednesday afternoon, but maybe it needed to happen.

Ten years ago, Cat had met Kara for the very first time, and she'd wished that she didn't have to be alone. And Kara…. sweet, gentle Kara. She had worked herself sick, making sure that Cat would never be alone again.

So Cat holds onto her while she sobs.

**

Thanksgiving with Carter is lovely. Katherine can't make it, so it's just the two of them, and Carter glows under 3 days of undivided attention. They make all their traditional foods, and see some enormous holiday blockbuster that they agree is terrible, and play Settlers of Catan four times in a row before Cat runs out of steam.

She is lighthearted when she comes into the office Monday morning. Kara looks a little shy as she hands Cat her morning latte, hot enough to replace the sun, but Cat rattles off a list of demands the same way she always does, and the air between them seems to clear. She detects relief in Kara’s face

That doesn't mean Cat has forgotten. She waits until Thursday afternoon, and when Kara comes in with a crisp chicken salad, Cat is ready for her.

“Kiera, I want to get a head start on the annual budget reports, can you work late tonight?” she asks. Kara looks very startled - Cat doesn't usually ask.

“Of course, Ms Grant, do you want me to start pulling files?” she stammers, visibly changing mental direction. Cat waves a hand at her.

“Yes, yes, get me the monthly reports from The Trib and Channel 11, and ask finance for an expense report packet prepped by Monday. You’ll come home with me tonight and we’ll work from my home office - I don't want to miss dinner with Carter.” Kara is so flabbergasted that she looks less like a lovable golden retriever and more like a fish, her mouth opening and shutting several times without sound. Cat stares her down coldly. “Chop, chop,” she says.

Kara flees.

At 6:00 they ride the elevator down together in silence, a privilege Cat affords no one else. “Um… maybe I could run home for dinner, and come by after Carter’s bedtime?” Kara finally suggests timidly as they exit the building, and Cat huffs impatiently.

“Don't be stupid, Kiera, obviously I am planning to feed you. The housekeeper has left chicken and rice in the fridge.”

Since Kara has never stopped pushing in the almost 9 months that she has worked at CatCo, she persists. “But… you never let me see Carter. Is this because of what I said before on your balcony? Because I know I was a little,” she laughs awkwardly, “um, _emotional_ , but it was just because the holiday was so close and I was a little taken by surprise and -”

“It was because you had something to be unhappy about,” Cat interrupts her firmly. “There's no point in lying about it. You've seen me unhappy about the same thing, once. You helped. I admit, I've been a little uncomfortable introducing you to Carter, given your role in his conception, but I'd like to return the favor and help you a little too.”

“You already help me feel less alone.” Kara says softly, and when Cat looks at her she is looking back with shining eyes.

Cat is very grateful to see her car pulling up.

**

She'd warned Carter in advance that she was bringing home a work friend for dinner, of course. In the car, she warns Kara too.

“Carter is very shy and sensitive,” she says. “He can take awhile to warm up to people - he never does anything thoughtlessly. Give him space and respect his boundaries.”

“Of course,” Kara agrees immediately. It is gratifying how eager she is to see Carter again, 11 and all grown up. Cat rarely has the opportunity to share her love for her son with anyone, and something inside of her warms readily to Kara’s enthusiasm.

When they walk through the door, Carter comes rushing into the hallway for a hug, and Cat pulls him into her arms. She pulls back after a second, long before she really wants to, respectful of the fact that her boy is getting a little too old for long embraces. For once though he doesn't pull back entirely, choosing instead to cling to her arm a little as he stares at Kara.

Kara stares back, looking dumbstruck, and Cat has to laugh a little at two pairs of identical wide blue eyes.

“Carter, this is Kara, my assistant. She's going to have dinner with us and then help me get some work done in my study.”

Carter nods - he already knows all this. “Nice to meet you, Kara,” he recites dutifully, and Kara finally snaps out of it.

“I'm really glad to meet you too, Carter,” she tells him, and it is so genuine that Carter can't help cracking a smile. “I hear from your mom that you're the local Mario Kart champ. I drive a mean flame-flyer myself, you know.” At that, Carter lets out an actual _laugh._ It's short and it’s quiet, but it's definitely there. It is Cat’s turn to be dumbfounded.

“Do you want to have a race before dinner?” he asks, and Kara nods enthusiastically before sending a guilty glance in Cat’s direction.

“Uh, if that's ok with your mom, but maybe we should help in the kitchen…”

“No, go,” Cat waves them away, “please. I don't need you hovering while I warm up chicken, I get enough of that in the office.”

Kara knows her well enough not to be offended, and Carter actually takes Kara by the arm, leading her toward his game room. “It's through here - we have bean bag chairs at the same height as the motion sensor, so it's a good set up,” he explains.

“I _love_ bean bag chairs,” is the last thing Cat hears before she goes into the kitchen, rolling her eyes fondly at them both.

The table is already set for three, likely Carter’s work, and it is the work of minutes to heat up the chicken and rice dish and drizzle dressing onto the pre-made salad. She goes to fetch her wayward blue-eyed blondes, and can hear their shouts of laughter well before she enters the room.

“Mom, Kara cheated!” Carter says as soon as he sees her. He is almost doubled over from the force of his giggles. “She elbowed me to make me fall off rainbow road!”

“That's not cheating, it’s strategy!” Kara defends immediately, laughing almost as hard as Carter. She appears to have fallen off her beanbag chair and is lying sprawled on the floor. Her hair is a messy halo around her, her cheeks flushed from laughter, and her feet sprawled up on the beanbag chair at a ridiculous angle.

Cat wants to kiss her.

“That's definitely cheating,” she says dryly. “Penalty is that you’re doing the dinner dishes.”

Carter cheers, turning off the TV and leading the way to the dining room. Kara follows him and Cat lingers for a moment behind, stunned by her revelation.

There’s no time now to really unpack it. She does her best to put it aside for the moment, focusing on Carter’s easy chatter over dinner and the exultant lilt to Kara’s voice as she encourages him. She looks like a plant that has just been given water after a long drought, drinking in every word out of Carter’s mouth and drawing strength from it.

Kara is beautiful. Cat has thought so from the first moment she saw her, though she'd hidden it from herself with words like ‘otherworldly’ and ‘mysterious.’ She can't hide from it now.

She leaves Kara installed in her home office with graphs of profit margins while she takes Carter upstairs to read before bed. They are halfway through the fourth Harry Potter book.

“I like Kara,” he tells her, curled against her under his deep blue covers, and Cat smiles.

“I like her too,” she says, and Carter eyes her with interest.

“Are you dating her?” he asks. “You can tell me if you are, I won't mind.”

“I’m not,” she assures him. “Kara is too young for me, darling.” He has always been perceptive, and she wonders what he is perceiving now that has made him ask, but he nods, accepting her answer at face value.

“She can still come over again though, can't she?”

“Of course,” Cat agrees. “You’re owed a clean rainbow road victory, I think.” He giggles, nodding his sleepy agreement, and Cat opens the book to their most recent page.

When Cat comes back downstairs, Kara is working diligently, illuminated by the dim lamp next to her on the leather couch. She smiles when she sees Cat, but it is brief and distracted.

“Your new art director increased shooting expenditures by almost 40 percent,” she tells Cat, which is not new information.

“Graph magazine sales over the last year, the increase will more than justify his methods,” she says, and Kara nods.

They work in silence until they are pushing 11:00. It's comfortable, sitting together on the couch with paperwork between them, and although Cat is fighting exhaustion, she is sorry to let Kara go.

She thinks Kara feels the same; her body language is all reluctance as she gathers her things, making her way slowly out the front door before turning back.

“Ms. Grant, I can't thank you enough…” she begins hesitantly, and Cat motions for her to stop. Kara never knows when things don't need to be said.

“You’ll be invited back, Kiera,” she tells her, and shuts the door. For just a moment, she allows herself to slump against it.

**

After that, Kara becomes a fixture in their home all too easily. The annual reports last them as an excuse for the next three weeks, and after that they don't bother to replace it with another one. Kara just comes over for dinner once or twice a week, or she goes with them to the zoo on Saturday and gets more excited about the animals than Carter does, or she joins them for Settlers of Catan and kicks both their asses, leading Cat to accuse her of being a Catan-shark.

It would be perfect, except now that Cat has recognized her own feelings, she can't turn off the part of her that notices how Kara’s eyes sparkle when she laughs, or the way her eyes are drawn to Kara’s shirt where it rides up when Kara raises her arms in victory after winning at Taboo.

The lines between them are so blurry, and Cat doesn't know how to redraw them without giving up any of the things that she is so desperate to keep. All she can do is keep moving forward, maintaining a precarious balance.

The balance breaks on a random Friday night.

Cat is on the balcony outside her office, just taking a few deep breaths after a day of general incompetence. Carter is already asleep, and most of the office has gone home, so it’s not as though there’s any reason to hurry back to her paperwork. She takes a few deep breaths and stares out at the night sky. No matter how long she has CatCo, she never quite takes that view for granted - she worked too damn long for it.

She hears the door slide open behind her, and a moment later Kara presses a hot latte into her hands.

“I’ve done triage on your desk - there’s a stack of things you need to get through tonight, a stack you need to get through sometime tomorrow, and a stack I’ve taken to delegate to other people for you,” she says, and Cat is so genuinely grateful to hear it that she turns and gives her a rare, genuine smile.

“My hero,” she murmurs, trying to make it sound a little less sincere than she means it. Kara seems to get it - she grins back and nudges Cat gently with her shoulder, coming to stand beside her.

“It’s a beautiful night,” she says, staring out at the same view that Cat had just been appreciating, the same quiet enjoyment on her face.

The moonlight is outlining Kara’s form against the dark night, and Cat’s eyes are drawn to the sharp line of her neck, the way her collarbones jut out, the gentle slope of her breasts. Whatever the circumstances, there is always something a little inhuman left in the way that Kara’s beauty takes her breath away.

When she tears her eyes away and back up to Kara’s face, Kara is staring at her, her mouth slightly parted in shock.

Cat is caught.

She takes just a moment to think through her bluff, but before the words, ‘that top is doing nothing for you, consider cracking open our fashion magazine sometime’ can make their way past her lips, Kara is stepping closer, something that looks a little like wonder on her face.

“I didn’t know that that was something you wanted from me,” she says, not even bothering to front. “But I can see it now - I can always see you, when I look.” She takes Cat into her arms, carefully - not as though she expects to be stopped, but as though Cat is something precious and should be cradled gently.

Cat can’t find any air to breathe. “Kara….” she whispers, and then there are lips pressed against her own. Her mouth falls open, and she clutches at Kara’s shoulders and holds on.

Kara stays gentle, but she is extremely thorough, still holding Cat to her as she explores her mouth. When she parts, Cat is already panting, heat racing through her and making her shake against Kara’s firm body, grateful to be held up. Kara kisses down her jaw and Cat turns to give her better access. “Oh, oh,” there are gasps coming out of her mouth, inarticulate and desperate, “please, Kara, I need…” she doesn’t know what she needs, but Kara makes a pleased little noise against her jaw.

“Don’t worry - I always know what you need, Cat. All you have to do is let me give it to you,” Kara murmurs. Her breath is hot against Cat’s neck, and Cat shudders, sexuality and horror washing over her as she reacts to both Kara’s actions and her words. She comes to her senses at last, and shoves Kara away.

“Absolutely not,” she says sharply. Kara looks hurt and puzzled, and God, Cat wants to hit her for it. She wants to hit herself, for being so stupid and obvious. She wants a drink.

“Sex is not something that happens because one person needs it,” she says in a measured voice, striving for patience. “It is something that happens because _both_ people _want_ it, and I do not settle for anything less. Nor,” she adds a little sharply, “do I have a dearth of happy volunteers. I don't need to coerce anyone to get laid, Kara.”

Understanding blooms on Kara’s face. “You think you’re coercing me?” she asks, an incredulous laugh bubbling under the question.

“I think magically requiring you to meet my every need and then letting you think that sex is one of them sounds fairly coercive, yes,” Cat mutters. She is trying not to let herself be mortified, because it would be a selfish way to feel under the circumstances.

But then Kara’s palm is against her cheek, gently stroking her face, and when she looks into Kara’s eyes they are filled with all the softness and warmth and awe and dedication that Kara _always_ directs her way.

“I don't know if you’ve noticed, Cat,” she murmurs, “but somehow granting your wishes always grants mine too. We complement each other well that way, don't we?”

Cat has wanted that to be true. Carter at home, Kara in her office - Cat has never been happier in her life than she is now, and she wants to believe that she makes them as happy as they make her - that their little family is bringing Carter out of his shell, is slowly but surely erasing the shadows from behind Kara’s eyes.

But she’s never been able to be really sure. Magic and wishing - they seem like selfish things.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you since the very first time I saw you on the beach,” Kara tells her. “I’d never seen anyone like you - there isn’t anyone like you.”

Kara has given Cat so many things that she has wanted, and Cat has tried to give her things in return. She puts a gentle hand on Kara’s face and turns her to recapture her lips in a gentle kiss. “Why don't I do the wish granting this time,” she suggests in a low voice. “Tell me exactly what you want, Kara.”

“You. God, I want you,” Kara breathes, and Cat obliges.

**

 **Epilogue** \- the 3rd wish

 

“I’m going to send Kara in now, Mom,” Carter says, giving her hand one last squeeze. “I’ll be back in a little bit, but I think she’d like a few minutes left alone with you.”

At 94 years old, Cat’s eyesight isn't what it used to be, but she likes to think she’ll always recognize the signs of tears on her son’s face. She reaches up to wipe them away and he kisses her palm before leaving the room.

Kara comes in a moment later, taking Carter’s spot beside Cat's hospital bed. In appearance, Kara is in her 70s - her golden hair has faded, and the laugh lines around her eyes have deepened to permanence. She’s hung onto youthful vigor in a way Cat hasn’t, though. Cat had felt guilty once, that Kara has let go of eternal youth for her and Carter, but she knows Kara has never once regretted it or looked back, and Cat has made her peace with it.

Right now, though, Kara’s lined face is tracked with tears, and _that_ will never do.

Cat is confused - she knows she must be drugged, and that that accounts for the pleasant haze around her thoughts - but she nevertheless reaches into her bag of Things That Upset Kara and looks for a solution.

“Is that IT menace upsetting you again?” she asks. “I’ll fire him this time, I really will.” Except that's not right - Winn doesn't try to kiss Kara anymore, he spoke at their wedding. What year is it?

Kara laughs, a wet sound, and kisses her. “I don't need you to fire anyone, baby, but I do have a favor to ask of you.”

Cat scowls at the nickname, but of course whatever favor Kara wants, she's going to grant it. That's what they do for each other, after all. “What is it?” she asks.

“It's about your last wish.” Kara says.

“Can't use that,” Cat points out reasonably. “Then I’ll be all out of wishes and you’ll have to go back into your pod.”

“No, it's time to use it now, sweetheart. I have a wish I need you to make for me.”

Is Kara leaving them? That's not right - Kara doesn't leave them.

She must have voiced the thought out loud, because Kara kisses her again. “Of course I'm not leaving you. But you're going somewhere without me, Cat - if I try to follow, i’m just going to end up back in my pod alone. I don't want that. I need you to wish for us to stay together - I need you to wish for me to come with you, ok?”

Cat doesn't think she's going anywhere, but it's hard to tell around the drugs, and Kara never lies to her. If she's going somewhere, of course she wants Kara to come - she knows Kara doesn't like to be left alone.

“Ok, I wish that.” she murmurs amiably. For some reason it's hard to get the words out, but she does. She hears Kara give a sob of relief as things start to fade away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNING: this chapter contains major character deaths (from old age)


End file.
